If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: a single dad, grumpy sunshine, small town romance

WHEN I ENTER BREW HAVEN, I’m greeted with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and toasted pastries. They host a weekly Sunday brunch, so the place is buzzing with activity, packed with patrons eager for their caffeine fix and a hearty meal.

I spot Quinn and Andi waving at me from our usual booth in the back corner.

Since I moved to Aspen Grove, we regularly come here on the weekends, but it’s been ages since we’ve all been together. I’m looking forward to catching up with Andi. Not so much to the interrogation I suspect Quinn has planned.

There’s not much of an update since the last time we spoke, aside from Dylan coming over to my house on Friday. After getting Lola home from school, he stopped by a second time that afternoon. He brought me dinner and took Waffles for another walk. After my nap, I had enough strength to get to and from the bathroom, and I convinced him I was okay to be left alone.

Dylan and I have exchanged a few texts, but I’ve kept mine brief, not wanting to interfere with his weekend plans. Johanna and Mike are back in town, so he and Lola spent yesterday at their house.

That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been on my mind. Memories flood my thoughts of his hands massaging my scalp as he looked down at me with a lust-filled gaze. I wanted nothing more than to ask him to join me in the tub, and the only thing that stopped me was being sick.

The logical side of my brain recognizes that there’s much more at stake than the mutual attraction between two people. We have Lola to think about, and our lifestyles are totally different. However, the emotional side of my brain is a lustful bitch, who wants nothing more than to march over to his house and demand that he kiss me again.

It’s difficult to justify the reservations I’ve had when he’s been so good to me. I appreciate his ability to show he cares through actions and expects nothing in return.

When I finally got around to opening my fridge this weekend, I found a stack of precooked meals with a yellow sticky on the top container.

Morning, sunshine,

I hope you’re feeling better. These are for you.

P.S. They take less time to heat up than a corn dog.

-Dylan

I reluctantly tried the vegetable lasagna, and he wasn’t exaggerating; it was delicious. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up my precious frozen corn dogs quite yet.

Yesterday, I spent time locked in my studio, finishing another painting. My art exhibition is coming up soon, and I’m determined to prove to Gavin and myself that despite my poor procrastination habits and short attention span, I can finish this collection on time, even if it seems impossible.

“Look who finally showed up,” Quinn says, giving me a teasing smirk as I approach our table.

“I’m only five minutes late,” I say, leaning across the table to hug her.

“You look gorgeous. I’m obsessed with that jumper.” She gestures to my outfit.

After being cooped up inside the last couple of days, I was excited to wear something other than yoga pants or sleep shorts. My corduroy jumper was a recent find at the local thrift store, and I paired it with a peach long-sleeve shirt and navy-blue tights.

“You look darling,” Andi chimes in.

“Hey, stranger.” I slide into her side of the booth and give her a hug. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she acknowledges. “I’ve already gotten an earful from this one.” She motions to Quinn. “Work has been busier than usual, and Charlie has a never-ending list of extracurriculars, so it’s impossible to keep up.”

Andi is a partner at the law firm in town and a badass aunt. When her sister passed away four years ago, she traded in her corporate job in New York City for family law in Aspen Grove to raise her nephew and his pet chickens. We became fast friends when Quinn introduced us. I’m a big fan of her willingness to speak her mind and her no-nonsense attitude.

“The important thing is we’re all here now, which means Marlow can give us the scoop.” Quinn fixes her focus on me.

“I can’t do anything until I’ve had my coffee,” I complain.

I’ve been to coffee shops all over the world and Brew Haven is one of my favorites. I may or may not be addicted, but I make no apologies.

“Here you go.” Quinn beams, sliding a cup toward me. “It’s a cappuccino with three pumps of coconut creamer, just the way you like it. I also ordered you avocado toast with eggs and a side of bacon, which will be out shortly.”

“Bless you,” I say, lifting the warm cup and savoring my first sip.

“Don’t be fooled,” Andi warns me. “It wasn’t for your benefit. She figured that buying you brunch would butter you up, and cut down on the time she’d have to wait before she could interrogate you.”

I take another sip of my coffee, waiting for Quinn’s patience to wear out. It doesn’t take long.

“For heaven’s sake, Marlow, don’t leave us hanging.” She’s practically on the edge of her seat. “While I was at the airport last night, Martha called me from the shop. She said there’s a rumor going around that Dylan Stafford spent the day at your house on Friday. Is that true?”

I roll my eyes. “What is it with the people in this town? Don’t they have anything better to do than gossip?”

“Not when the Stafford family is involved,” Andi interjects. “Even I know that.”

“Enough chitchat,” Quinn says, leaning forward. “Tell us what happened.”

Before I can say anything, Kelsey, one of the baristas, brings over our food, eliciting a glare from Quinn.

“Here you are, ladies.” I practically salivate when she places my plate in front of me.

“Thanks, Kelsey. This looks amazing.”

“My pleasure,” she says before hurrying off.

When I reach for my fork, Quinn grabs my wrist. “Marlow, there will be plenty of time to eat later. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Fine.” I begrudgingly set my fork down. “Dylan came over on Friday morning to check on me when I didn’t show up at his place. He found me sick in bed and took the day off to clean my house and cook me soup. He also washed my hair because I was too weak to stand in the shower. Oh, did I mention that he tried to train Waffles?”

“He. Washed. Your. Hair? Oh my god, I’m swooning.” Quinn puts her hand to her forehead in a dramatic fashion. “Andi, please tell me you heard that.”

“I heard.” She laughs before taking a bite of her biscuits and gravy.

“That’s what you got out of my story? Did you not hear the part where he tried training Waffles? My dog is perfect just the way he is,” I declare.

“Except when he’s terrorizing the town while chasing a squirrel down Main Street,” Quinn pipes up between a bite of bacon.

“Or when he’s trespassing into your neighbor’s backyard,” Andi adds.

Leave it to my friends to give me their unsolicited opinions.

“Okay, I guess Waffles could use some training, but is Dylan the right person for the job?”

Something tells me he probably is because he’s good at everything else. I don’t know any other men who can braid hair, cook gourmet meals, or who take a day off from work to care for his daughter’s nanny when she’s sick. Although I’d like to think I mean more to him than that.

“Girl, if a man willingly cleaned my house, made me a home cooked meal, and washed my hair, I would gladly let him train my dog,” Quinn says with a mouthful of pancakes.

“Same,” Andi agrees.

I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Waffles learned to follow directions. I make a mental note to chat with Dylan about it when I see him in the morning.

“Does this mean you guys are an item now?” Quinn asks with an upbeat tone. “At least tell me you’re planning to get some action. Clearly that man is into you.”

“No. Right now, my focus is on Lola and my upcoming art exhibition.” I avoid Quinn’s gaze, staring down at my toast. I’d prefer not to hash out my overly complicated feelings for Dylan right now.

I pick up my fork, ready to dig in, only to be interrupted again.

“Enough about your non-relationship”—Andi uses air quotes for emphasis—“with Dylan. I want to know how your collection is coming along for The Artist. Gavin is doing a phenomenal job promoting it on social media, and I can’t wait to see how it turns out. I wish I could be there in person.”

Her nephew Charlie has a hockey game on the same day as my exhibition. While I would have liked for her to come, I would never ask her to choose me over her family obligations.

I groan as I throw my hands over my face. “It’s been slow going. I have three more pieces to finish and only a few days to do it.”

“Oh boy. Gavin won’t be happy if he has to chase down another delivery truck around Manhattan,” Quinn warns me.

“Yes, I’m very much aware.” I shoot her a playful scowl. “I’ve blocked out my schedule this week, so aside from watching Lola, I’ll be locked away in my studio until the collection is complete,” I state confidently. “I’m feeling more inspired, so I’m hopeful these final pieces will be less challenging than the others.”

Quinn smirks. “I wonder where your newfound inspiration came from.”

“Will you stop it,” I feel a blush rising to my cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, feigning innocence.

“Uh-huh. In that case, I’m going to eat my breakfast now.” I finally take a bite of the avocado toast drizzled with olive oil and groan in satisfaction.

We spend the next hour eating our breakfast and catching up. Quinn shares her plans to expand the classes she offers at Brush & Palette, and Andi updates us on the changes happening at her law firm. She also fills us in on the recent shenanigans Charlie has gotten into with his pet chickens.

“Oh shoot,” Quinn mutters when she checks the time. “I’ve got to run. I canceled the Family Craft Corner class while I was out of town and rescheduled this week’s session for today.” She scrambles out of her side of the booth. “Should I tell Dylan hi for you?” she asks me with a smug expression.

I can’t believe she actually changed the class name because of him.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn her as she runs out of the coffee shop.

“I better go too,” Andi says. “Charlie’s hockey practice is ending soon, and he doesn’t like it when he has to wait out in the cold.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” I scoot out of the booth so she can get out.

“For what it’s worth, Quinn and I just want you to be happy,” Andi says as she hugs me goodbye. “You’re probably already planning your next big adventure, but who knows, maybe there’s something or someone in Aspen Grove worth staying for.” A muffled ring comes from her purse, and she rummages around until she finds her phone. “Shoot, it’s Charlie. He’s waiting for me. I have to go,” she rushes out.

“That’s okay. See you later.”

She gives me a quick wave as she rushes out the door, leaving me alone to consider what it might be like if my next big adventure was letting two very special people into my heart.

I’m just stepping out of the coffee shop, debating if I should stop by Main Street Market on my way home, when Lola’s singsong voice catches my attention.

“Marlow,” she shouts, waving frantically with both hands.

She and Dylan are heading in my direction, and my stomach does a somersault when Dylan’s face lights up with a grin.

I wish he’d do that more often.

“Hey, lolabug,” I say as they get closer.

I take a moment to appreciate the view. I rarely see Dylan in anything but a suit, but today he’s dressed down in dark-wash jeans, a long-sleeve thermal, and a beanie. He’s the epitome of sex appeal, and I swear he somehow got more attractive since I saw him last.

“You’re so pretty,” Lola sighs dreamily. “Daddy, don’t you think Marlow’s pretty?” She tilts her head toward Dylan.

“Yes, she’s very beautiful.” His gaze is fixed on me as he speaks.

My heart skips a beat, and I offer him a shy smile. I’ll never tire of hearing him call me beautiful, especially when his eyes light up with warmth, making me feel like I’m special.

I turn my attention to Lola when she tugs on my jumper. “Hey, Marlow, can you do my hair in a halo braid for school on Monday?”

“Absolutely,” I promise. “Who did your hair today? It’s lovely.” It’s styled in a side braid ponytail with a polka-dot bow.

“Daddy did it,” she says proudly.

“He did an excellent job.”

My heart melts now that I know the sentiment behind Dylan’s ability to braid Lola’s hair. His unconditional love for her has no bounds, and it’s endearing that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to guarantee her happiness.

“Where are you two headed?”

“Ms. Quinn’s craft class,” Lola exclaims. “Today we’re making rainbow heart suncatchers. Can you go with us? Pretty please?” She clasps her hands together.

“Oh, I’m not sure—”

“You should come,” Dylan interjects. “That is, if you’re free.”

His invitation catches me off guard. Everyone in town knows that his weekends are reserved for Lola and his family, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to pass up the chance to spend time with them if he’s sincere.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“We want you there, don’t we?” he asks Lola.

She nods with a toothy grin.

“It’s settled,” Dylan announces, not giving me a chance to argue. “We better hurry, or we’re going to be late.”

Lola moves in between us, taking hold of both of our hands, leading us along. I pay no mind to the sidelong glances from passersby who are shocked at the sight of Dylan Stafford spending Sunday afternoon with his daughter and her nanny.

I have a hunch Quinn is going to have a heyday with this new development.

When we walk into the studio at the back of Brush & Palette, a hush falls over the room, everyone watching us with interest.

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of her head when she sees me with Dylan and Lola before she breaks into a smug grin. There’s no chance she’s going to let me live this down.

She comes right over to greet us. “Hey there, Ms. Lola. I’m so happy you’re here,” she says in a cheery tone. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Marlow. She’s my nanny,” Lola says proudly.

“I’m glad you brought her along. You want to know a secret?” Quinn leans in closer.

Lola’s eyes shine with curiosity. “What is it?”

“Marlow is my friend too,” Quinn whispers. “She comes by the shop to visit me after she drops you off at school.”

“Does that mean Waffles is your friend too?” Lola asks.

Quinn chuckles. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

Since Waffles almost plowed her down while chasing a squirrel, I’ve avoided bringing him to Brush & Palette. However, she spends plenty of time with him whenever she comes to my house. That dog has a talent for making friends, even when his first impression is less than stellar. Take Dylan, for instance. It’s taken over a year, but he’s warming up to Waffles, whether he’ll admit it or not.

“Waffles is my best friend,” Lola announces with gusto.

“He’s one lucky pooch,” Quinn says.

Lola giggles. “You’re silly, Ms. Quinn. Waffles isn’t a pooch. He’s a dog,”

I steal a glance at Dylan, who’s attempting to suppress a chuckle. I’m sure he’ll educate her on the different names for a dog when they get home.

“You’re absolutely right.” Quinn puts her hands on her cheeks and shakes her head. “Why don’t you and your dad show Marlow where your station is and you can start on your rainbow heart suncatcher.”

“Oh, yes, please. Come on, Marlow. This is gonna be so much fun.” Lola grabs my hand, tugging me across the room, Dylan trailing behind us.

Every station has a kid’s apron, Mod Podge, foam paint brushes, a heart-shaped template, white card stock, two pairs of scissors, a pencil, and a selection of colored tissue paper cut into one-inch squares.

When we get to the station with Lola’s name on it, she takes off her jacket and tosses it to Dylan. “Can you hold this, Daddy? I want to make my suncatcher now.”

“Sure, ladybug.” He tucks the coat under his arm. “But you have to get your apron on before you can start. You don’t want to get your rainbow dress dirty, do you?”

“No.”

Dylan grabs the pink apron from the counter and pulls it over Lola’s head, securing it with a bow in the back. I look around to find that every other woman in the room, aside from Quinn, is swooning over him. I don’t blame them, because I am too. There’s something irresistible about a man who can braid his daughter’s hair and takes her to a craft class, especially when he’s the brooding type.

Lola grabs a piece of cardstock, and Dylan helps her fold it in half. He gives her a pencil and patiently guides her hand to trace the outline of a heart. After they’ve finished, Lola picks up a pair of scissors and furrows her brow in concentration as she does her best to cut along the shape of the heart.

“Excuse me?” Someone aggressively taps on my shoulder, and I spin around to see Sarah McCormick and her daughter standing behind me. We’ve never talked before, but I’ve seen her at morning drop-off.

“You’re blocking our station.” She sneers.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I step out of the way, but she doesn’t move.

“I had no idea Quinn allowed guests to come to this class. It’s already at max capacity as it is.” She gives me a once over.

“Oh, I—”

“If you have a problem with Marlow being here, why don’t you take it up with me since I’m the one who invited her,” Dylan says loud enough for everyone to hear.

Oh dear.

Sarah’s jaw drops in disbelief. Dylan is typically reserved in public, and it’s not like him to cause a scene. Hopefully, no one will notice me grinning like an idiot, delighting in the fact that Dylan Stafford just stood up for me at his daughter’s craft class.

“Th-there’s no problem,” Sarah stutters, blinking rapidly. “I just wanted to make sure there was enough room for the kids, that’s all.”

I squeak in surprise when Dylans pulls me toward him, turning me around so my back is against his chest, his hand possessively on my hip.

“There, now your daughter has plenty of room.” He gives Sarah a terse smile.

“Dylan,” I whisper. “You’re making a scene.”

“I’m only doing what Sarah asked.”

Several moms are gaping in our direction, and Quinn is watching from the other side of the room, mouthing the words so hot as she fans herself.

Thankfully, the kids are too busy making their suncatchers to notice.

“Marlow, look at my pretty heart,” Lola states proudly, holding it out for me to see.

I step away from Dylan and bend down to get a closer look. The uneven, heart-shaped cutout with jagged edges is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

“You did such a good job,” I coo.

She puffs out her chest with pride and returns to cutting out another paper heart.

“Thanks for that,” Dylan whispers.

“I meant every word,” I assure him. “She is an exceptional little girl who deserves the chance to shine. Who’s to say that a crooked heart today won’t be a world-famous art installation in a few years?”

He studies me closely like I’m a painting he’s trying to decipher.

“Daddy, can you help me with the glue? It’s all sticky?” Lola holds up her little hands, which are now covered in Mod Podge.

“Oh shi—shoot,” Dylan mutters.

He rushes to her side and yanks out some wet wipes from a nearby dispenser. Once Lola’s hands are clean, he picks up one of the foam brushes and dips it into the Mod Podge, lightly dabbing glue onto one of the paper hearts. He demonstrates how to place the tissue paper on the glued surface, beaming at Lola when she grabs a handful of pink tissue paper and follows his instructions.

“He’s quite remarkable, isn’t he?” Quinn remarks, coming to stand next to me.

“Yeah, he really is.” I keep my gaze fixed on Dylan.

“No matter how complicated things are between you two, there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself fall for him if that’s what you want,” she says.

The problem is, I think I’m already halfway there.